Humorous Happenings

It is a natural assumption that when living abroad there will be certain things you just have to adjust to.  What I didn’t anticipate was how funny and sometimes embarrassing some of those things would be.

Nigerian Food

Y’all know that Kurt and I are Foodies.  We love international cuisine so one of the things Kurt and I were looking forward to was experiencing Nigerian food.  We were familiar with some of what to expect since we had been told that a lot of the dishes were similar to those found in Ghana (we have a relative from Ghana) and other countries within the region.  We liked the few Ghanaian dishes we had had while in the states so we were super excited by the prospect of experiencing Nigerian food.

We arrived in our new home and found that our cook, Blessings, is Nigerian; Igbo to be exact.  Okay, great, bring on the Nigerian feast!!!

Our friend/boss, as well as our other housemates, are Lebanese.  Lebanese people don’t tend to use many spices in their cooking.  Nigerian food uses many spices.  Blessings has been trained to cook Lebanese food.

I work and lunch with a gentleman, Tarun, who is Northern Indian.  He and his family are vegetarian.  Nigerian food tends to use meat or meat juices/flavorings.  Their cook, Stehany, has been trained to cook vegetarian Indian dishes.

Kurt and I have been in Nigeria for a month.  We have eaten plenty of Lebanese food and Indian food, which we never could have expected in Nigeria, and we certainly appreciate but; we have yet to eat any Nigerian food.  Tomorrow, Sunday, per my request, Blessings will be making a Nigerian meal for us.  Finally.

Sig-Alert on the Road to Enugu

When asked what the top three things people hate about Southern California are, invariably someone says traffic.  It’s true.  Traffic in SoCal is horrendous.  It takes far too long to get anywhere because there are too many cars on the road, accidents and the stupid Lookie-Loos slowly examining the wreckage from their vehicles as they pass by.  It’s ridiculous.

In the larger cities of Nigeria, traffic jams called “go-slows”, are as commonplace as they are in the US.  Abakaliki, though a small town, has its traffic issues as well: bad roads, no road rules, overturned trucks and cattle.  Yup, I said cattle.  More often than not when traffic is stopped it is due to either an overturned truck or folks waiting for cattle to cross.   

Every evening on my way home from the office, I see a herd of cattle along the side of the road mooing toward parts unknown.  One night I had to work a bit later than my usual 6:00pm and therefore was headed home late.  My driver slowed behind a few cars and a large truck maybe a quarter mile from the turn off for our compound.  We waited a few minutes thinking that traffic was stopped due to someone dropping off either passengers or goods and would therefore clear up soon.  Ten minutes later it hadn’t.  Stephen, my driver, got out of the car to see what was going on.  When he returned, he informed me that the go-slow was due to the cattle.  Apparently, the herd we usually saw on our way home was ahead of us and during their crossing decided to stay awhile.  We waited another twenty minutes before we could finally reach home.  During the twenty minutes, Stephen was among the other drivers, passengers and standers-by herding the cattle along out of the road.

I had to laugh.  Here I am more than 12,000 miles from SoCal and I’m still in rush hour traffic… because of cattle.

Underwear Rotation

(BACK STORY:  When packing for our move, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to pack everything that I wanted in my suitcase and that some things would have to be shipped.  Being the practical woman that my mother raised, my packing motivation was, “If my shipped items are delayed, what will I want/need most immediately and; if any one of the three bags we’re taking are lost, I want to make sure I have plenty of underwear.”  So I packed ten pair in each bag.  Yes, that’s thirty total pair of underwear.  I know that that seems a bit excessive but, frankly, so the hell what!  It was a personal security thing for me, okay!  I also packed quite a lot of clothes in general- just in case.) 

Americans are notorious for not paying attention to things.  We just want what we want and don’t really bother with finding out where something comes from, where it’s going or how it got there.  We are product minded people who generally don’t give much thought about the fact that meat comes from an animal that must be slaughtered before it arrives in the clear cling film wrapped Styrofoam container and displayed in the meat department of the grocery store.  We believe in grocery store meat departments, the trash man, and Keebler Elves.  Being a fairly typical American, there are things that happen and I have no idea how they come into being, I just appreciate the results. 

One of the things I didn’t notice was just “being done” was laundry.  So it wasn’t for about a week and a half that I realized that laundry was being done daily.  I wear the clothes, put them in the hamper and magically they were being washed, dried, folded and put away every single day.  At first I thought, “Wow, there are five people living in this house- that’s a lot of work.”  A few days after that, while reaching into the wardrobe for a fresh pair, I realized, ‘Hmm, I wore blue underwear yesterday too.  I’ve been wearing blue underwear all week.  Wait.  I only packed three blue pair: one solid, one striped and one polka-dotted.  I’ve been wearing solid blue underwear all week.  I’ve been wearing the SAME solid blue underwear all week!!!……  Since laundry is washed daily, I just packed twenty-nine pair of underwear too many!’

After I stopped laughing I took the solid blue pair and put it at the bottom of the pile and thought, ‘I’ll see you again in thirty days.’

Geckos- Not Geicos in the House

I’ve mentioned to some folks that it is not uncommon to see lizards everywhere.  Y’all know me; I am NOT a nature kind of girl.  Hell, my idea of a nature walk is buying produce at the Farmer’s Market!  That being said, I do have a certain respect and appreciation for the beauty and wonder that can be found in nature.  It is this respect that has helped me, rather quickly, adapt to the fact that the lizards here (mostly Skinks) are as prolific as pigeons are in the US.  It is not uncommon to find them walking along side you down a path or sunning themselves on a wall only a few feet from where you might be.  Even I am astounded at how quickly I got use to seeing them and being near them but; I have.  Also, it is quite common to see Geckos inside of the house.  When I say see Geckos I mean, it is really nothing to walk from room to room and see one in each room in the same night.  We, the Geckos and I, have generally formed quite a respectful relationship:  I hate insects and they love eating them; it’s really a match made in heaven.

One night, after a particularly exhausting day at work, during what has become my evening ritual of showering, changing clothes and then resting on the bed before dinner is served, nature called and I was just about to answer when…  Wait!  Let me paint a visual for you:  I’m in the bathroom, trousers down, bum hovering above the bowl, when suddenly a rather large Gecko (about 5”-6” long) comes scurrying along from behind the wall-mounted sink headed for the toilet which is only a foot away from my mid-sitting position.  I leapt up screaming and running for the door- and before you say it; YES, damn it, I ran. I, while trying to raise my britches in mid-stride, actually ran.  

Kurt was nowhere to be found and there I am in need of peeing but unable to go because there is now a lizard on the toilet.  I needed a fast solution.

I ran to the stairs and called down for Kurt but he didn’t answer.  Okay.  So I called down for Mary, our housekeeper.  Mary, hearing the fright in my voice, immediately ran up the stairs to see what the matter was.  I must give Mary a great deal of credit.  She was respectful enough not to laugh at me until after she went into the bathroom and swept the lizard up into the waste bin; a task, I might add, that took her a whole two seconds to do.  When she asked, while giggling, why it was, after being around them and not being bothered by their presence before, that I would be so frightened now, I told her the whole story including my exact position when the intruder revealed himself.  This is when, without warning or indication, Mary sat straight down on the floor of my bedroom flailing her arms and legs in loud tear-filled uproarious laughter and unintelligible Igbo/English.  It took her a full seven minutes to calm herself enough to notice that I didn’t find the situation quite as humorous.

I have since seen the humor.  We laugh about it almost daily.

Ironed Underwear

I’ll admit it; I’ve become rather spoiled by having my laundry washed daily.  I don’t mean just washed like in a washing machine either.  I mean hand washed.  Everything.  Every day.  Admittedly, it did take me a minute to get my head wrapped around the idea because, well, frankly, aside from the occasional delicate item, almost NO ONE in the US is hand washing laundry.  In any case, that’s how it’s done here and I love it.  My clothes have never been cleaner.  My whites are bright white- and without the use of bleach.  Once the laundry is washed it is hung up outside on the line in the fresh air.  It’s wonderful.

The fact that there is very hard work involved in doing laundry this way is not lost on me at all.  I’ve actually, in a pinch, had to hand wash a small load of clothes and it was back-breaking work.  My hands were pruned and raw for days afterward and it took three turns in the dryer to get the clothes dry because adequately wringing out water from clothes by hand is nearly impossible.  Like I said, I have a real respect and appreciation for the magnitude of this task and; it’s done every single day.

So when I arrived from work to find Mary, the housekeeper-slash-hardworking laundress, upstairs ironing my underwear, I immediately told her to stop.  I let her know in no uncertain terms that ironing our underwear was absolutely too much and beyond unnecessary.  Washing the laundry every day by hand was already a heavy burden and this was just plain old over the top- I just wouldn’t stand for it. 

Mary, sweet Mary, quietly reminded me that Abakaliki is very humid and therefore nothing ever completely dries outdoors and so asked me how I would prefer the clothes to be dried.  With tail tucked between my legs, I simply said, “Oh.  Carry on then.”

I still think it’s a lot of work and so I have begun research on where I can get my hands on an old fashioned wringer for her to use.  

...

I'm starting to get use to some things here in Nigeria.   Other things may take a bit more time but, I'm certainly having a good time figuring it all out.  I hope you're having fun with me.

The Little Things... Let Me Clarify

So the question of folks sending care packages to Nigeria seems to be coming up quite a bit.

First, let me say, Thank you!  Truly.

Second, please, know that it has not been my intention to passive-aggressively urge folks to send packages.

Third, all of that being said, yes, we can receive care packages.  However, there are a few hurdles to overcome in doing so.

1. Here in Abakaliki, the only buildings that have addresses are government buildings and banks.  Since I do not live in either, we do not have an actual address.

BACKGROUND INFO: 
Banks here don't function exactly the same way as they do in the US.  Banks here do not offer loans using the money of those who have deposited and therefore do not make any money from charging outrageous interest rates.  Banks make money from soliciting customers to open new accounts.  One of the ways they keep some of the bigger accounts is to provide services such as receive mail, pick up deposits or drop off withdrawals.

We, James JS Construction, Ltd., are our bank's largest account.  They will do almost anything for us.

2. Shipping anything must be done either using FedEx or DHL.

3. Shipping is SUPER expensive!  I mean, out of control expensive.  My mother-in-law just tried to send us a disc (CD), a single disc, and was told that it was going to cost $137.00!  For one disc!!!  Since all packages sent from the US, or anywhere else, are subject to Customs charges thus the high expense.

4. I've been told that receiving anything via even FedEx or DHL takes a very long time.  I've been told it can be as long as months for a simple package to get here.

So, now you know the basics of shipping to Abakaliki.

Frankly, though, it might be better if you just gather up all of the things you would like for us to have and then give them to us when we come for a visit.  It's a lot cheaper and easier for us to pack a suitcase full of things than it is for y'all to ship things.  Also, the bonus feature with this option is that we get to see you!

I won't tell you not to send things because if you are truly moved, who the heck am I to un-move you?  What I will do is provide the address to the bank and tell you to take your chances.... 

Oh, and thank you for your kind consideration and love.  Really, we're touched and humbled by just your expression of love.

The address must be written exactly as follows:

James JS Construction
Attn: Sydney Henry-Ueno
c/o Zenith Bank PLC
27-A, Ogoja Road
Abakaliki
Nigeria

The Little Things

As the old adage goes, “You never miss what you had until it’s gone.”

No one truly appreciates the depth of meaning found in those words better than an expat.  No matter where they use to call home, every expat misses some small seemingly insignificant trinket, habit, product or custom that once brought them unrealized joy and is only now, in its absence, truly appreciated.  I am no exception.

Never before did I realize the many little niceties that I once experienced on a regular basis as being a source of joy until they were no longer available.  Some of them are just little things; little things that, now in their absence, hold so much joy.  It is this odd phenomenon that I suspect causes what has heretofore been referred to as “culture shock”.  It’s not that the newly experienced culture is actually shocking; it’s more that the absence of those seemingly insignificant, but ever familiar, “little things”, joys, if you will, becomes so shockingly apparent and only further punctuating the fact that you are truly out of your element.  That being said, allow me a moment to share with you some of the unrealized little things that are now unavailable…

1.        Bacon.  I had anticipated that there would be a strong possibility that bacon, my salty crispy chewy porcine joy, would be scarcely available and quite expensive.  What I did not anticipate was its total absence.  I mean really, I haven’t seen it and cannot find it anywhere.  I did however, hear a rumor that one can get it on the black market in Lagos (about 800 km = about 500 miles).  Imagine that- bacon on the black market!  People, I have gone for exactly 33 days, 7 hours and 39 minutes without bacon.  I am nearing critical mass.

2.       Post-it notes and other general office supplies.  So I went into a “stationary” store (this is what they call book stores that also carry paper, pens and school supplies; mind you, these areas/stores are usually about the size of a walk-in closet and only usually carry the barest minimum items) with a list of items I was in need of in order to begin organizing the office files and office in general.  I asked for the items on my list and almost immediately became aware that there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going to find them in this store (my first clue was the way the woman looked at me as if I had a tree growing out of my forehead).  My list was simple: 

Post-Its, *Notepads, *Stapler & staples, Fine point pens, Tracing paper, Masking tape, Magazine racks, Hanging folders, Manila folder, Labels (for printing on… you know like Avery’s but I’d have been happy with generic), *Paper clips

Like I said, a simple list.  The items you see with an asterisk are the items that the store carried.  Come to find out, these items are also the only items I could get when I went into the nearest major city, Enugu (about 70 km =  about 44 miles north of Abakaliki).  Now if these seemingly simple items were that hard to acquire, how hard to you think it is to get my hands on a business card scanner, a three-hole puncher, or even correction tape?  Yup, next to impossible.

3.       Grocery store meat.  You know, the kind sitting in the less than eco-friendly Styrofoam trays and is tightly wrapped in cling-film?  Yeah, that stuff.  Whether pork, beef, chicken, chopped, ground, steak or cube, it cannot be found here.  If you want meat, you have two options; Option One: go into the open air unrefrigerated slaughter market (a favorite hangout for many of Nigeria’s flies and God knows what else) and choose from one of the many freshly (or not so freshly) slaughtered meats available all the while accepting any of the likely repercussions of said decision; Option Two: call the local butcher and arrange for him to come by your house with a few of his animals (chicken, goat or cow), choose one (hoping your choice was the healthy one of the group) and have him butcher it on site for you all the while accepting any of the likely repercussions of that decision.  No butcher in white apron, no bell to ring for service, no Styrofoam or cellophane involved.  For the most part we have become vegetarian.

4.       A top sheet on the bed.  Now I know a few of you, particularly the bachelors, will say, “Big deal!  I’ve been sleeping without a top sheet for years!”  And no doubt you are correct. However, you are also doing so BY CHOICE.  I do not even have the option. 

When we first arrived, I noticed it and asked if our housekeeper would please put the top sheet on the bed.  Her response was, “Sorry, Madame Lady, there is no.”  Okay, so I thought, well, when we go into town I’ll just buy a new set of sheets and that will be that.  Nope.  Went into the store, in Enugu, and the sheets are actually sold with a contents label reading, “Contents: Sheet- 1, Pillow cases- 2”.  Like I said, you sleep that way by choice; I do not.

5.        Dr. Pepper.  Yeah, I know, I didn’t tend to drink a lot of carbonated beverages when I lived in the US.  But there was a time when I lived on the stuff.  My favorite of these, Dr. Pepper.  I mean, if I could’ve figured out a way, I would have mainlined the stuff!  Every day I had at least three or four of them.  Some folks smoked cigarettes; I drank Dr. Pepper.  And yes, I did notice that doing so usually made me ill either from the carbonation or the excess sugar or the caffeine.  After many years of drinking, I finally made the decision to clean up my act, and went cold turkey.  For four years I didn’t have a single Dr. Pepper.  In fact, I didn’t have a single soda at all.  After a while, I allowed myself one or two per year but that was the limit and I was okay with it. 

Now, I am here in Nigeria and my soft drink options are Sprite, Coke and Fanta Orange.  Yup, that’s it.  Even if I wanted a Dr. Pepper I couldn’t find one.  They don’t have them and don’t even know what they are (You guessed it, I asked and got another tree-in-the-forehead look).  And yes, I know, I quit drinking them so I really shouldn’t miss them all that much but I do.  Besides, it’s not the actual having that I miss; it’s the option to have that I miss.

6.        Grocery stores.  It seems odd to me that I would miss such a thing.  First of all, I mean, y’all know me, I didn’t do the cooking- Kurt did.  The kitchen was his room.  He did the cooking, the shopping and the cleaning (or his flimsy version of it).  I went into the kitchen for beverages, extra napkins or a forgotten fork.  Secondly, what could be joy inspiring about walking through aisle after aisle of overpriced food items while listening to Celine Dion or Elton John.  What’s so great about price checks, crabby unionized cashiers and long lines at the check-out stand.  I’ll tell you: EVERYTHING.

Here in Nigeria, I still don’t cook.  I do, however, have to do the meal planning and shopping for the house.  This means I go to the open-air market or to the “supermarket” for everything. 

I think that based upon a few previous descriptions and your own imagination, you can kind of guess what the open-air market is like but allow me to fill in a few blanks: 

• Wednesday is fresh vegetable day.  Any and all available fruits and vegetables can be purchased at their peak on Wednesdays.  There isn’t a lot o selection and often the quality is rather substandard by US FDA regulations but it is what it is.  If you seek veggies on Thursday through Tuesday, you will not find them.
• Don’t wear your pretty shoes.  Because Abakaliki has some of the worst roads in all of Nigeria, more often than not, nothing is paved and you must therefore play hopscotch with the various mud puddles, pot holes and gravel mounds in order to navigate your way around.
• Prepare for sensory overload.  Crowded doesn’t even begin to describe what it is like to be in the market.  Literally there are times when you will have complete strangers hip to hip (or worse) with you as you walk, shop, haggle etc.  There are cars and Kaykays (three wheeled taxi cabs) driving in any available space with little regard for pedestrians.  The noise is deafening; what with all of the horns, yelling, haggling, hawking , meeting and greeting, babies crying and everything else, it’s like being in the Rainforest Café times 10!

As for the “supermarket”, well, the local ones are a lot like going into a convenience store/Bodega that isn’t in your regular neighborhood: you don’t know where anything is and they never have your brand.  There isn’t a lot of variety in the “goods” department.  I mean, when shopping for, say for instance, toilet paper, one is not faced with the dilemma of which brand to choose, soft or strong, or what’s on sale- you get what’s there and usually what’s there is one brand (I call the brand Sand de Cooch).  Period.  More often than not, there are one or as many as three brands, depending on the item, available.  You choose among them and hope for the best.  

Add to that, the store also sells furniture.  Seriously.  Furniture that looks like something you’d find in some small discount furniture warehouse run by a rather heavily accented oily guy with body odor, too much jewelry and in desperate need of manscaping, who assures you every two to five minutes that he can “make good price for you” on his “one of kind” pieces.  Stuff that you truly hope is “one of kind” because the thought of there being more than one of that five color pleatherette living room set is nightmare inspiring. 

I miss grocery stores.

7.       No exchange rates.  In the US the dollar is the dollar.  Even in nearby countries, the dollar is the dollar.  In fact, more often than not, the dollar is of greater value than the local government currency.  While the latter is still true in Nigeria, it is also true that using or even showing US dollars is a good way to get kidnapped or at the very least robbed.  No kidding.  Unless you are dealing with a bank or even one of the very reputable black market money dealers, usually Housa in origin, then you just stuff your American money away for use in an emergency and prepare to use Naira.  Dealing with a bank is quite expensive as the exchange rate is based upon the bank’s exchange rate and house fee and fees differ from bank to bank and from day to day.  Dealing with a Housa black market money dealer is a bit better as the rate is fixed per day (they actually have black market exchange rates printed in the newspaper right next to the bank exchange rate, no kidding) and then you can even negotiate the “transaction fee” which is typically 100 or 200 Naira.  The exchange rate has, for the last few years, been between 150 to 160 Naira (₦) per dollar.  Being aware of the exchange rate is very important if you are trying to buy anything since haggling is also very important.  One cannot haggle the price of something if one does not understand the exchange rate and if one does not haggle one will get financially raped (no, this is not too harsh of a word) and all of this must happen very fast.  So, if you can’t count, add, subtract, multiply and divide quickly in your head, you will be among the fiscally violated (I learned this the hard way after not haggling because I didn’t understand the exchange rate and therefore purchased a 1.5 pound catfish for ₦2400 or what amounted to about $15.00). 

That's a lot of work just to buy a pack of chewing gum.  Just say’n.

I miss the dollar.  The dollar is a dollar- for now.

8.       Stable electricity.  No kidding, don’t laugh.  It seems like one of those inalienable rights or something, like “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” but; just like those famous words, that’s only true in the US.  In Nigeria, and especially in Abakaliki, electricity is so unstable that it is absolutely expected that the power will go off and stay off for the majority of the day.  That means, no refrigeration, no A/C, no lights, no charging mobile phones, plugging in computers, using the copy machine, no hot water (hot water isn’t heated via gas), no TV.  Every dwelling has a generator back-up because of the unstable nature of the electricity.  Fuel for the generator is quite expensive (around ₦400 to ₦600 per liter = $2.53 to $3.79 per liter and that’s a lot of money for a country that is the third largest producer of the world’s oil.  Incidentally, Nigeria’s electrical grid is powered by fossil fuel as well); and if the generator goes out or runs out of fuel, then you are truly SOL. 

Speaking of TV…

9.       My DVR and watching a WHOLE program on TV.  I’ve been here in Nigeria for just shy of a month and in that month there hasn’t been a time when I’ve been watching a program or movie on the TV and the damned electricity didn’t go out right at a crucial point in the plot.  I’m not kidding here.  It has happened every single time.  If I had my DVR, I could just schedule my programs/movies and just watch them when I want to.  If the power goes out, I could just watch the prerecorded program when the power was restored.  No big deal.  Again, I have no options.  And before you make the same suggestion that some others have of, “Just go online and order from Netflix or something,” read on…

10.   Fast reliable internet, please!  I miss this as much as I miss bacon- no kidding.  Remember about a year or two ago before wireless internet was widely available and you had to buy one of those things that looks like a slightly larger version of a thumb-drive?  Yeah, that’s what I’m dealing with here- except slower- a lot slower.  Like 1995 dial-up slower.  But slower.   Downloads take a minimum of four hours and uploading anything is just as speedy.  Order from Netflix or something, you say, HA!  That would be a neat trick.

There are about six internet/mobile phone providers here and you literally need a different provider depending upon where you are or want to go (No kidding, my phone service provider is Glo and Kurt’s is Airtel.  I have a week signal or no signal upstairs and his is strong but if we go down stairs mine is strong and his is nonexistent).  As is slow wasn’t enough, the networks from which these various internet providers operates often go completely down.  There have literally been days when there was no internet available at all- from any network.  “Get a satellite system,” you say.  Satellite systems are very expensive, even for companies, and because of the storms with heavy wind and rain plus heavy cloud cover, satellites don’t work any better than the plug-in/dial-up thingy.

11.   Having familiar medications available.  Recently, I had an allergic reaction to something I ate.  I had horrible head to toe hives for about 24 hours; my skin was red and blotchy, super itchy and swollen.  My hands and feet were swollen so big I could barely walk or make a fist.  My ears were so red and swollen that I looked a bit like Buddha- just without the smiling. 

I took the OTC Benadryl that I had brought with me from the US only to read on the package that it was expired by about two years and therefore pretty ineffective.  Doubling my daily dose of Zyrtec, which was not expired, didn’t prove any more effective than the Benadryl.  When I finally got to a pharmacy the next day, and asked for Benadryl (hopefully not expired either) I was told very sternly, “We dough not have dat fancy bran medicine he-ah!  We only have dis bran, only.  You have rash?”  When I replied with, “Yes, I ate a green pepper here and it gave me the hives,” her response was, “You from US.  You Americans too delicate.  Always too sick, too much rash, too much delicate.  Too much an-tee-bee-otics for everything make you delicate. Tcck.” 

Well, my delicate American ass misses familiar medication and a dispensary without judgments.

There are a lot more things that I miss.  Too many to mention, really, and conversely a lot of things I don’t miss.  For instance, I don’t miss the 15 pounds I’ve lost since I’ve been here and didn’t really notice I’d lost until I put on a pair of jeans I’d brought with me.  I don’t miss how inventive I’ve become in absence of otherwise readily available supplies and entertainment (it’s truly amazing what one can do with notepads and; my love for reading has become more voracious than ever before).  I don’t miss how sharp my mind is becoming and how quickly I can calculate things in my head that I never really did before (why did I need to?).  I don’t miss how spoiled and how dependent I was upon so many things (my current phone calls and texts- that’s it).  I don’t miss the complexities associated with making shopping decisions that are ultimately pretty silly in the big picture (I mean really, how many kinds of mayonnaise does one really need?).  These are all little things and I am reminded everyday just how little those things are.  I am forced, to my benefit, to remember that that is exactly what they are:  Little. Things.

Like I said, there’s a lot I don’t miss.  So I submit that a new adage must be coined…

“You never miss what you didn’t have until it’s gone.”

(Okay, I still want my bacon, Dr. Pepper and to not have road rash from toilet paper, though, damn it.)

Travel Journal Entries Part 3

The following is an entry in my handwritten “travel journal”.  In fact, the next several entries will be from the journal in order to tell the story of our journey from the beginning.  I dedicate it to Joseph C. McDaniel who tirelessly and relentlessly encouraged me to publicly display all that is me; well, really he would say, “Take it to the stage, Sydney!  Your future is on the stage as a comedienne.”  To which I would always reply, “Joe, I am only conversationally funny not stage funny.”  So, here is me being conversationally funny in public… Joe, how’s this for a compromise?

Enjoy…

So, after we put our bags down and got a quick look at the place, we were walked back downstairs to the dining room for lunch.  Blessings, our cook, had prepared a small “feast” for us of potatoes with meat patties and vegetables with pasta.  We were served bottle water and Coke bottles- real old fashioned Coke bottles made of glass with metal caps.  Kurt and I weren’t sure if the food was actually good or if we were just so hungry that it didn’t matter- we decided it was likely a bit of both.  We also decided that between the facts that we were both so exhausted from traveling, anxiety and that we hadn’t really been prone in 72 hours, plus the fact that Claude, our friend/boss, wasn’t expected still for another four or so hours, a nap was probably for the best. 

Our room was without a door handle and instead had an oblong hole where one used to be.  Based upon this “detail” we decided that the bed furthest from the door would be our bed and; upon our bed we fell- fully clothed.  Neither of us actually remembers falling asleep but we did remember waking up with the very full and sharp realization that we were in Nigeria!!!  WOW!!!  That “ah-ha moment” was very brief as we began to scramble to figure out what time it was.  Since our US mobile phones, after having crossed into international territory, have been rendered little more than fancy paperweights, we had no way of telling the time.  We’re typical Americans- we had cell phones- not watches!  Plus, since our phones had been stuck in airplane mode since we left NY (how many days ago was that?) we could’ve been sleeping for one hour or twelve. 

After we figured out that it had only been about three hours, we decided that we would go downstairs to see if Claude had arrived.  He hadn’t but with 15 minutes he did.  Claude greeted us with such warmth and excitement.  He kept telling us how happy he was that we were there and that he had been waiting for a long time to see Kurt and to meet me.  He hugged and kissed both of us and then hugged and kissed us again.  Then he introduced us to his companion, Serge, an architect from Lebanon.  “Serge is working on a big project for the company,” he told us and then he told us to go upstairs clean up and change as we would be meeting the Governor of Ebonyi State in an hour.  HUH?!?!  What the hell?!  I’m thinking, “we just got here after traveling for four long days, we’ve only just settled down let alone settled in and you want us to pretty-up so we can meet the local royalty?!  Uhm, WOW!  But, off we went.

All four of us and the driver, Stephen, piled tightly into the Toyota Prado headed to meet “royalty” over the darkest and bumpiest roads I’ve ever encountered.  Once at the Governor’s palace (yes, that’s what it’s called) it was very evident that we were about to meet a VERY important person as there was security EVERYWHERE and; even though we had an appointment, we had a few hoops to jump through.  The interesting thing was that even with the “hoops” we all also became very aware that Claude is considered to be a very highly respected and revered man.  Everyone we encountered was glad and even joyful to meet and greet Claude.  Often times it seems as if Claude is some sort of dignitary or ambassador because of the way the people treat him.  Yet another revelation was that anyone accompanying “Mr. James,” as he is known, was to be respected as well though I did still get more than a few sideways glances as so many don’t know what to make of the “big Madame Lady”. 

Okay, let me offer a bit of information:  In Nigeria, there are 35 semi-independent states and one Capital State known as Abujah where the President, Good Luck Johnathon, resides.  Each of the 35 states is overseen by a Governor who manages the state with quite a bit of autonomy so the position of Governor comes with status similar to royalty.  Some of you reading this are members of the SCA (if you have no idea what that is, it’s a medieval and renaissance re-creation club I use to belong to in the States; if you want to know about it, you can learn about it at www.sca.org) and therefore have dealt with “royalty”… yeah, uh, not really.  Meeting the Governor and his First Lady is like meeting the Queen of England.  There are certain rules one must follow:  do not offer your hand to shake unless it has been offered by His Excellency first; always look him in the eye; it is customary to do a small bow in posture or nodding of your head when shaking hands with His Excellency; and a few other rules too.  My point is that it is that the whole experience is beyond belief! 

So during this meeting, Kurt and I learned that there were plans for a cathedral to be built (which is why Serge had been brought on because he had designed it).  The drawings and master plan were quite impressive and while we were quietly listening to Claude speak about the details of the plan that’s when Kurt and I learned that Kurt was to be the Project Manager for the construction of it and for the brand new city, Ocho-Udo City (pronounced Ō-shō Doo), that would surround it… Uhm, HUH?!?!  A city?!  Like a whole city?!  And Kurt is supposed to manage the construction of it?!  Uh, WOW!!!  The city will of course be built over the next several years and in many, many phases but; WOW a whole city!  I have to give credit to Kurt for maintaining his composure during the meeting after that fine little bomb had been dropped (mind you, when we returned to the house later, Kurt had a full-on melt down that I didn’t blame him for at all and actually joined him in).

Next, Claude introduces Kurt and I and then says that we each will be presenting a verbal version of our curriculum vitas (along with a brief showing on the projector of some of Kurt’s completed projects which, thankfully, Claude had allowed Kurt to take a few minutes to prepare on a thumb-drive of before the meeting).  When it was my turn to speak, being nervous, I was very brief- like too brief.  There were so many things I forgot to share with them about my background and experience.  When it was all said and done, I felt like the arm-candy with little to no other purpose than to sit and decorate the room.  I vowed to myself that if I ever got a chance to speak to either of Their Excellencies I would not make that mistake again. 

After each presentation during the meeting His Excellency seemed quite pleased with the plans and expressed his sincere desires to see them come to fruition.  He made it clear that he had great hopes for the project as it would be his legacy.  Since, I have found that having a legacy is very important here.  VERY important.  As important if not more so than having children.  Learning all of this only further impressed upon all of us the magnitude of the projects and the importance of our presence here in Ebonyi State… so we’d better not F it up!

By the time we got back from the meeting Kurt and I had just about had enough.  It had just been way too much excitement and travel and newness and differentness for us.  We crashed and crashed hard but with thoughts of the very full day of meetings and site surveys and acclimation that await us the next day and all the days after.

This was the last entry I managed to finish in the handwritten Travel Journal simply because finding time to write everything down was just too much especially once the blog was up.  So now I will only post to the blog directly.  I can't promise that every post will be as poetic or pretty as the previous entries from the journal were but I can promise that I'll try not to leave out any details.  I definitely want everyone to get a vivid impression of what life here is like.  I'll share my experiences, victories, woes and all of the hilarious encounters with the people and living without the "comforts" of home (you know like bacon, Post-Its and semi-comfy toilet seats).  

I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I am. 

PS.... Sorry folks, I tried to load two pictures to the blog and after 3 hours I finally just gave up.  The signal here is so weak that I don't think pictures on the blog will be possible.  However, I was able to load about 32 pictures onto Facebook; the album is called Abakaliki.  Enjoy!